


Rock is Dead

by angermissmgt



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angermissmgt/pseuds/angermissmgt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Circa 1997-1998. While working on Mechanical Animals, Pogo reconnects with some old friends, and makes new connections in Los Angeles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Strong language, drug use, and adult content. There will be no slashing between band members in this fiction. I own no part of Marilyn Manson, this is strictly fiction; written as entertainment, for entertainment.

Stephen was rudely awakened by the sound of the phone ringing, but being half asleep, he mistook it for the alarm clock going off; he hit the snooze, and when that didn't work the first time, he hit it a second time. It then dawned on him, the phone was ringing, and he hadn't set the alarm the night before. He groaned at the thought of having to get up, and looking for a handset, so that he could answer the phone. “Fuck it,” he muttered into his pillow, “they’ll leave a message if they really give a shit.”

The machine picked up, but they didn't leave a message; so Stephen buried himself back into the bedding and signed contently. The peace didn't last but a second- instead of playing phone tag, the asshole was ringing him again. That told him it was one of two people: Brian or Jeordie; and he didn't feel too keen to talk to either one of those dicks so early in the morning. So, the machine picked up again; and, again they left no message. When the phone started ringing the third time, Stephen almost felt like getting out of bed and taking the phone off the hook. He hoped they would realize that he was not answering the phone and call back sometime in the afternoon. When they tried again for a fourth time, he knew they were now just doing it to annoy him. As much as he hated to admit it, the constant ringing of the phone was beginning to wear on his nerves; but, he refused to get out of the comfort of bed just because someone was miserable, and wanted him to join them.

After a few more calls, Michael must have gotten tired of hearing the phone ring, because Stephen could hear him answer it with a short sounding, “Yeah, what the hell do you want?” Michael gave a short pause, and then he continued with clear annoyance, “Man, that’s what we have an answering machine for! You woke me up, and I’m not sure about Pogo, seems he’s still sleeping; he sleeps heavier than the dead.” Stephen could hear Michael laugh lightly at his own joke through the thin walls of the house they shared, and Stephen thought Michael had hung up the phone for a minute until foot falls could be heard headed toward his room, “Alright, hold on; but, if he hits me, I’m kicking your ass, Twiggs.”

Michael knocked on Stephen's bedroom door, and he rolled over onto his back, sighing, “What?”

Michael opened the door, phone still on his ear; Stephen could just make out the sound of Jeordie’s voice on the other end of the line. “Twiggs said he wants to talk to you.”

Stephen sat up on to one elbow, and held out his hand for the phone, muttering, “This better not be anything stupid…” Michael sat on the bed, handed Stephen the phone while shrugging; Stephen spoke into the receiver, “What is it, you bleeding cunt?”

Jeordie snickered, and Stephen knew right away that he’d been up all night, doing God knows what. His voice was raspy, “Hey Pogo, you’ll never guess who I ran into this morning.”

“Do I really care?”

“Aw, c’mon man. Don’t be that way, I swear, you’re always such a bitch in the morning.” He laughed, and Stephen heard the giggling of a female. Jeordie cleared his throat, “C’mon, just take a guess; I’ll give you a clue if you’d like.”

Stephen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, he felt Michael scoot to the edge of the bed. “I’m in no mood for this shit at seven in the morning, asshole.”

Stephen heard the giggling again, and a familiar voice said, “Aw, Stephen, no reason to get all worked up, brother. I wanted to talk to you, but, Jeordie insisted on calling you from his phone instead of giving me your number, so that I could call later in the day.”

Stephen could hear Jeordie, in the background now, sigh and then laugh, “Well, thanks for ruining the surprise, Trista! Now what am I gonna do to piss him off?”

She ignored Jeordie's comment, “Stephen? Are you there? Earth to Space-Cadet Stephen!”

Stephen laughed, “Oh my God, what the fuck are you doing in L.A. Trista? And, why the fuck are you just now getting a hold of me, through Jeordie?”

“Jimmy and I got sick of New Orleans, and we decided to move out here when he got a job offer. I lost your number in the move; but, it’s not like you ever got back to me last time I called you, a month and a half ago, to let you know we were moving out here.”

Stephen eyed Michael for a second, he looked back, innocently; Stephen asked Trista, “You left a message on the machine?”

“Yeah, did you not get it? Any ways, it doesn’t really matter any; we’re talking now, at long last!” Stephen huffed at her dramatic flair, and she sighed, sensing his short patience, “Sorry we woke you, but, I was wondering what you had planned for tonight; I’m hoping that you will want to go out, with Jimmy and I, catch up some. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen your ugly mug, and, well, I kinda miss you, a little.”

Stephen smiled some at that, and poked fun at her to let her know he wasn't angry with her, “Aw, no need to get all sappy, T. Sure, what time frame are we looking at? I could use some more sleep.”

“Oh, about 8-ish or so; unless you wanted to get dinner too, I’m sure you know of some good restaurants here.”

“I know of a few, get my number from the fucker you’re with and call me back some time this afternoon. Is Jimmy there right now? Please tell me you’re not alone with that pervert.”

She laughed, “Na, he’s working; I came here to get some greasy breakfast after dropping him off, and low and behold, there’s the one and only Jeordie White, eating after being out all night. I was gonna leave him be, but, he spotted me, the bastard!”

Jeordie gave a weak protest, “Hey, that’s no way to treat the guy who bought you some awesome waffles.”

She laughed at him, “So, yeah, I’ll let you go back to sleep, grumpy! I’ll call you after lunch; love you, Stephen!”

Stephen laughed lightly, “There you go again, getting all sappy on me. I’ll talk to you this afternoon, and see you tonight, toots. Take care of yourself, bye.”

He hung up the phone and Michael eyed him for a minute, “So, who is Trista?”

“A friend I've had for about ten years now; she used to come to all our shows before we got signed. You meet her in New Orleans, remember?”

Michael thought about it for a couple seconds, and then shrugged, “Doesn't matter.” He then yawned, and flopped back into the bed, “I’m staying in your bed, Pogo.”

“That’s fine, just no spooning this time!” Michael sat up and watched as Stephen loaded a pipe, and took a hit, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back to sleep after this or not.”

Michael took the pipe from Stephen when it was handed it to him, took a hit and handed it back, “Fucking Twiggs man, what was he thinking?”

Stephen answered his question while stirring the bowl, “He wanted to annoy me, so basically, he wasn't.” He took a hit and coughed, making Michael laugh, “He doesn't really think things through most of the time.”

Michael smirked, “He’s not as stupid as he acts.”

“Yeah… right. We’ll pretend that’s the truth.” Stephen looked at Michael, “Are you going to come out with us tonight?”

Michael shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe. Won’t you want to just hang out with them, since you haven’t seen them in seven months?”

“Heh, are you kidding? We’re getting drunk, and, when Trista drinks, she talks enough to yak twenty ears off; the more people there she feels comfortable around, the less likely I’ll have her hanging on my arm all night, talking up a storm, and scaring off any girls who may want a ride on the ole’ Pogo Stick.”

Michael laughed, then coughed, and laughed some more, “Oh, you’re so pathetic! You act like it’s been ages since you got laid.”

“Two months is a long time when you’re in a rock and roll band, man.” They both laughed at that, “You’re right though, I am pathetic. Only person that’s been in my bed lately is you; and, well Mike, you don’t put out, you’re a tease.”

Michael laughed and hit the pipe again, “I think I’m done with that thing for a while.”

“Are you going back to sleep?”

Michael shook his head, “Na, pretty much awake now, due to Jeordie’s non-stop calls.” He stood up and stretched, “Let’s get back to work on that song we started last night.”

Stephen fell back into his pillow with a sigh, “Aw man, I’m gonna kill Jeordie next time I see him, for sure.”

They got up, and started their day with some breakfast; then started working on a couple songs they’d been building onto for a few hours, until they were interrupted by the doorbell. Michael turned down his guitar and looked at Stephen, “Who do you think that is?”

Stephen just shrugged and stepped out from behind his synthesizer, “Don’t know; only one way to find out.” He walked to the front hall, to see who was at the door, and wasn't too surprised to see Trista standing there, looking at a slip of paper and the house number. He startled her when he opened the door and shouted, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

She had put her hand to her heart in shock, then laughed, “Holy Hell, Stephen, you scared the piss out of me! I mean it, really; I think I peed myself a little.”

Stephen couldn't help but laugh, even as she gave him a hug and a smile; after she pulled back, he asked, “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Jeordie’s a fucker; instead of giving me your phone number, he gave me your address, and directions, ‘cause, well, you know me…” He smirked and invited her inside, “I hope you’re not mad I just showed up.”

Stephen shook his head, “No, quite the opposite; I wasn't really all that surprised to see you.”

She smiled and looked around a bit, “Nice digs.”

“Eh, it’s alright. What have you been doing since I saw you last?”

She shrugged, “The typical.”

“Sounds dull.”

She shrugged, laughing a little bit, “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you settle down.”

“Pfft, you haven’t settled down; not the hellcat you are!” Trista smiled and waved the ring she had on in front of his face, “No way! What the hell was Jimmy thinking, putting a ring on your finger?” She laughed, knowing Stephen was just messing with her, and he gave her a hug, “Congratulations; what’s the date?”

She blushed for a moment, “Last week, Justice of the Peace; and, thanks.” Trista almost looked relieved when Michael came in, holding his guitar, “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? I’m sorry.”

Michael smiled, “No reason to be sorry, I overheard you saying this is all Twiggy’s doing.”

Trista nodded, “Yeah, that’s the Jeordie I know; he’s a fucker. We should all gang up on him some time, and beat the hell out of him.”

Stephen smiled sadistically, “No, I’m going to kill him, next time I see him.”

Trista laughed, while Michael looked concerned, “Pogo, man, it really creeps me out when you smile like that.”

Trista looked at Stephen, then back at Michael, “That smile is pretty much harmless.”

Michael argued, “Looks pretty evil to me; seriously Pogo, stop it!”

Trista and Stephen nearly fell over each other laughing, while Michael smirked. Trista straitened herself, brushing her hair out of her face, and asking again, “Are you guys sure you don’t mind that I’m here?”

Stephen draped his arm around her shoulder, and led her to the couch, “Would you stop asking that?” They sat down and he poked her in the side, “You know how I feel about repeating myself.”

Michael picked his guitar back up and put the strap back around his shoulder, “If you guys will excuse me, I’m going to get back to work for a little while.” Stephen tried to protest, but Michael smirked and cut him off, “No, it’s alright Pogo; I’ll hang with you all later tonight.”

Trista gave Michael a thumb’s up, “Great! Sound like a plan, Zimmy.” He walked back to the room they had their equipment set up in, and Trista turned back to Stephen, smiling, “So, what about you, huh? What’s new in your life?”

Stephen shook his head, “Not too much has changed with me; new city, same me.” Trista raised her eyebrow at him, “Don’t give me that look.”

She smiled, “Fine, if you say there’s nothing new, I guess I have to take your word for it. I just thought, with a new city, there’d be some new stories.”

“Maybe a few, but I’m not sure that I want to get into those right now; I have lots of interesting stories of my time in South and Central America. If you’re willing to sit here for a few minutes, I’ll go and get my bong so that you have to sit here and listen to my rambling.”

She stood when he did, “You think Zim would mind if I put on some music; or would it interfere with his work?”

“Na, sounds like he’s using his earphones; I’ll be right back.” Stephen made his way to his bed room, and grabbed the bong, lighter, and bud. When he got back to the living room, Trista was still looking through his record collection, “Looking for anything in particular?”

“No, just observing how much your collection has grown.”

Stephen put the stuff he had in his hands down on the coffee table as she picked out a record and put it on, and started getting the bong ready as Trista got the volume down to a manageable level; when she sat down, he handed her the pipe, “Ladies first.”

She took the bong and before taking a hit, asked, “You didn't get into any trouble, did you?”

She lit the bowl up and he laughed, “Would I be here to tell you if I did? No, there were a few moments we all thought we’d end up rotting in prison somewhere, but, luckily, we weren't the ones the authorities were after.” She handed him the pipe, with a wicked grin as Stephen took his hit, then handed it back to her; smoke streaming out of his mouth as he told her, “Jeordie almost got raped in Rio de Janeiro.”

Trista sputtered, spit and smoke flying out of her mouth, “What?! You are kidding, right?”

Stephen shook his head, “Nope, it was on a bus, guy had a knife; we all told him not to go out in the city in his fucking dress… but, he didn't listen, what else is new? Any ways, he ran off the bus, we all, like idiots, ran off after him; ran into some gang members, who mugged us. All in all, Rio sucks; the criminals have guns, but the cops have tanks and shit, it’s fucking crazy straws there.”

He picked the bong up off the table and took a hit, then stirred the bowl; Trista shook her head when he tried to hand her the pipe again, “I’d better not, have to go pick Jimmy up in a few hours; and, I still have a tendency to get lost if I’m not strait.”

Stephen put the pipe back down on the table, and exhaled with a smile, “What time does he get off work?”

She looked at her watch, with a smirk on her face, “At three. I really wish I hadn't lost your phone number, and could have gotten a hold of you before now.”

“Before I forget, let me write that down for you.”

He got up to look for some paper and a pen, she smiled, “I’ll give you our number too, that way you have to pick up when I call you.”

Stephen sat back down with a note book, a pen, and a laugh; handed Trista the paper and pen, and watched as she scrawled her number down, joking with her, “I can’t read that chicken scratch.”

She just looked at him, with a cold glare, that made him laugh again, and handed over the paper. Stephen wrote his number down, along with a little note that read, ‘Wanna fuck?’, and handed her the paper, laughing while he watched her roll her eyes at the joke, “I’ll let you know the day I change my mind on that one, Stephen.”

“I’m just teasing, you know that.”

Trista smiled, “You are a notorious flirt, I know all too well.” She looked Stephen up and down, “No new lady friend?”

Stephen shook his head, “That was the exact topic I was hoping to avoid.” She cocked her eye brow again, giving him a smug and knowing look, “I thought I told you not to give me that look, T.” A small smirk crept across her mouth, but the rest of her expression stayed the same, “You are still relentless when seeking information…”

The smirk cracked into a smile, and she laughed, “Aw, c'mon Stephen, a curious girl has to know.”

He glared at her, “Meddler.” The title only made her laugh again, and he sighed at the fact that she was enjoying this so much, “Simple answer: no.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I've nothing to add.” She pouted at him, “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, L.A. women are not up to your standards, got it.”

Stephen scratched his head, “No, it’s not really that… I've had dates and stuff, just nothing worth talking about.” She gave him her knowing look again, and he sighed, “Alright, there may be a slight tenancy for them to be shallow, and, well, not so bright; but, there are some worthwhile chicks in this city, or at least I hope there are.”

Trista laughed, “I've noticed the couple times Jimmy and I have been out on the town that people here in general are shallow, delusional; and, the public school system must be worse than Florida’s! I mean, shit Stephen, I meet one guy who said we came from Mars! It blew my mind; I thought I’d been slipped something in my drink.”

Stephen picked up the bong again with a laugh, “Beware of the Scientologists!” He took a hit, “They’re fucking worse than that; but don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

She smiled and looked at her watch again, “Aw, fuck it, hand me the pipe. I think I’ll be able to find my way.”

He handed her the bong with a smirk, and asked, “And, if you can’t?”

Trista waved her hand in Stephen's direction before taking a hit, and responded with, “He’ll have to wait, and I’ll find my way eventually.”

Stephen laughed, and shook his head, “I see those vows didn't mean too much, huh?”

She handed him the pipe with a scowl, and said, rather sarcastically, “None of the vows said I had to pick him up from work on time.”

Stephen was about to take a hit, and muttered, “Smart ass,” from behind the bong. Trista smiled at his calling her out on it, and sat back, refusing the bong when he tried to hand it to her again; so he set it down on the table, “I really can’t believe you agreed to get married, what happened to never getting married and having children?”

“Who said I was gonna pop out a kid? Seriously, marriage is fine, and Jimmy agrees with us not having kids; maybe one day we can adopt, we've talked about it.”

“You’d both have to clean up your act, you know; and, you would have to get a real job.”

Stephen laughed as she crossed her arms under her tits, scowling at him again, “I’ll have you know, that in the past month, I've been doing nicely with my screen printing and designs. There are tons of bands and businesses that need ugly tee-shirts made, en-mass; and enough freaks to buy my original designs at the flea-market I have a booth in.”

“What, do you have business cards or something now?”

Trista gave him a look, and pulled her wallet out of her purse, producing a card; she handed it to him, “Jimmy’s idea, got to give it to him, he knows these things somehow.”

Stephen looked over the card, “Wow T. I think it’s great that you’re serious about this now. Jimmy’s really whipped you into shape!”

She smiled and nodded at that; Stephen tried handing her card back, but she shook her head, “Keep it; you may be able to get me some business one day.”

She winked at him, and he laughed, “Alright, but, I doubt it.” She gave him a sour look, “I mean it, I don’t make those decisions, you know that; I just show up, play my instruments, smash shit, get fucked up and leave when the time comes.”

Trista rolled her eyes, “Stephen, I know you; you go to local shows, and shit. You have to know some bands or something that need a screen printing service.”

Stephen shook his head, “Nope, all the bands I know have managers that do all that for them; so that they can show up, play instruments, smash shit, get fucked up and leave when the time comes. It’s really just easier to be sleazier when you have an asshole who handles all the tedium and legal bullshit.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes some, “Easier to be sleazier, huh?”

“Yeah; hey, that’s kind of a cool expression, you could put that on a shirt!” Stephen poked her in the ribs, getting a squeal of laughter out of her, “They’d sell like crazy, I bet.”

“Yeah, but they may kill my corporate commissions; that’s where the money is.”

“Pfft, I know your style, T. If your twisted sense of humor doesn't deter customers, nothing will.” Trista smiled, and Stephen joked with her, “Sellout, corporate whore; what happened to the integrity of the artist?”

She laughed, “Integrity doesn't feed me or put a decent shelter over my head in this city.”

He laughed, “Touché, it’s true, and I’m glad that you finally realize you’re good enough to make some kind of a living off your talent; instead of mooching off of me.”

She laughed, “Yeah, yeah; I may not have paid any rent while I slept on your couch those few months in New Orleans, but I kept the place clean, I cooked and did the shopping. When I got there, all you had in the kitchen was beer, whiskey, and some old bread; seriously Stephen, that bread was older than me.”

He had to laugh at her dramatics, “I was only teasing you T. You know it was a pleasure having you there, things were pretty dreary up until that point.” Stephen put his arm around her shoulder, “Then you meet Jimmy, blew him in a men’s bathroom, and left me all alone again.” Trista gave him a cold look, “You can’t deny it now; we laughed about it the night it happened.”

Trista rolled her eyes, but had a small smile on her face, “You’re right… I’m really glad that you and Jimmy got to be friends after how horrible you were to him that night.”

Stephen scratched his head, “Yeah, I know, I’m an asshole… Guess that’s why he got my birthday blowjob, huh?”

Trista shook her head, “You were never going to get a blowjob from me, birthday or otherwise.”

Stephen grinned cockily, “Never say never.”

She rolled her eyes again and looked at her watch again, “I better get going, if I’m gonna get there on time for him. I have to stop at the store on the way.” Stephen stood up with Trista and she smiled at him, “See ya tonight, Bier!”

They hugged each other, and he smiled, “Call me when you get home, and let me know what time to expect you guys. If you want to go out to eat, I need to know sooner than later, so I can make reservations.”

Trista smiled, and Stephen walked her to the door, “Alright, sounds good.” He opened the door for her, and she stepped out, turning and waving at him, “See you in a few hours!”

She got into her car, and drove off; Stephen went back inside and walked back to Michael, so that they could work some more until it was time to get ready for their night out on the town. He smiled; it would be a great night, indeed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Strong language, drug use, adult themes. I own no part of Marilyn Manson; written for entertainment, as entertainment.

6:15 pm

Stephen was pacing the floor of the living room, Michael was sitting on the couch, watching, “She said 6:30, you’re getting impatient for no reason.” Stephen shot Michael a glare, and he sighed, “Seriously, Pogo, sit down; you’re driving me crazy with your pacing.”

Stephen sat next to Michael and crossed his arms, “You sound like my mother.”

Michael cracked a smile, “I think I’ll take the compliment; your mom is one of the nicest people I've ever meet.”

Stephen chuckled, “Funny, she said the exact same thing about you.”

Michael laughed, and they heard the doorbell ring, “I bet that’s them.”

Michael stood up and walked to the door, while Stephen lit a cigarette. Michael open the door, Stephen heard Jeordie's voice, and groaned, “Great, now he’ll want to tag along…”

Michael walked into the living room, with a scowl and Jeordie at his heels; Jeordie smirked and croaked at Stephen, “Hey Pogo! What’s happening, brother?”

Stephen exhaled and stubbed out his cigarette, glaring at Jeordie, “I’m still not in the mood for your shit, just so you know.”

The doorbell rang again, and Michael went to answer it without a word; Jeordie laughed, “Aw man, you still mad about this morning? I just thought you’d be happy to talk to Trista, since you two have been friends for such a long time.”

He winked at Stephen as Trista and Jimmy walked in with Michael, Trista rolling her eyes when she saw Jeordie; Jimmy was all smiles, “Hey Pogo, long time no see; how ya been?”

Stephen nodded, “Not bad,” He shot Jeordie a glare, “Just a little peeved.”

Jeordie did his best to look shocked, “What, man? At me, really? That’s the last time I do you a solid…”

Trista laughed, “I asked you for his number, you ‘accidentally’ call him on your cell phone 5 times.”

Stephen stood up, “I’m ready to eat, let’s go.”

Jeordie smiled, “You guys are going out tonight?”

“No. If it’s fun and adventure you’re looking for; you won’t find it here.” Jeordie glared at Stephen; Stephen glared back, “You are not coming to dinner with us, and I don’t want you to ruin what could be a great, fun night Jeordie. You can pout all you want; I don’t give two shits.”

Jeordie huffed, “You’re always such a dick, man; I don’t have anything goin’ on tonight, and I came over to see if you guys wanted to chill.”

“It’s Saturday, make your own adventure.”

Trista laughed, “Aw, Stephen, how could you say no to a face like that?”

Stephen leveled a look at her, “Easy, he has no tits.”

Trista put a finger to her chin, “So, if I said I wanted Jeordie to come along with us, you’d have to agree, right? ‘Cause I have tits, and, I hate to see Jeordie look so pitiful.”

“You fucking kidding me, T?”

She smiled, “It was just a rhetorical question; now, let’s go eat!”

Jimmy put an arm around Trista’s shoulder, and they started walking to the door; Michael called over his shoulder, “Twiggs, man, we need you to leave so we can lock the door.”

Jeordie crossed his arms over his chest, and walked out with them, “I can’t believe that you guys won’t let me come with you.”

Stephen answered with, “Yeah, well, I’m not sorry.” Jeordie started glaring at him again, “Pout all you want, it has no effect on me.”

Jeordie started walking back to his Fire-bird, muttering about how Stephen needed to get laid, and stop being such dick all the time; Stephen ignored him, and got in Jimmy’s Civic, followed by Michael, who was smirking, “What a bitch…”

Trista got in the passenger seat while Jimmy sat behind the wheel, saying, “I bet he follows us.”

“If he does, he’s not sitting at our table.”

Michael laughed while Jimmy smirked, as he’s not fond of Jeordie either, “I don’t see why you didn't just make reservations for five; any one could have foreseen him wanting to tag along.”

“It wasn't a lack of forethought on my part, why should I make plans to spend time with someone I can hardly stand when forced to be in close quarters with him?”

Trista turned in her seat, to look at Stephen, and had to adjust her seat-belt when it started to choke her, “Jeordie is my friend, regardless of how annoying and stupid he can be; hell, I’m friends with you, Stephen, and you’re, by far, the biggest dick I know.”

She turned back around in her seat, “Ah, T, you warm my cold, little black heart! And, if I were you, I’d rethink my relationship with Jeordie; how many times has he tried to fuck you?”

“More times than I can remember; but, he’s done nice thing for me, too.”

“Yes, in hopes it will get you into bed with him.”

She laughed, “Ya know, you have to give it to him, he’s persistent if anything. After all the times I’ve rejected him, he still tries; it’d be charming, if it weren't creepy and kinda rapey...”

Jimmy glanced over at Trista as he turned into the parking lot of the restaurant the group had their reservation at, “Really? Charming isn't a word I think I’d ever use to describe Jeordie; the guy’s a dog, in every sense of the word.”

Jeordie had followed, and pulled into the parking spot next to Jimmy as they were getting out of the car, “Hey ya fuckers!”

“Our reservation is for four, dip shit; and I doubt they’ll have a table open for you, seeing as it is Saturday and all…” That wiped the smile off Jeordie's face; Stephen told him as everyone else started walking toward the door, “We’ll see ya when we’re done eating, asshole!”

Stephen flicked Jeordie a quick wave and strode to catch up to everyone else, to see that they were all snickering at his comment. Jimmy gave Stephen a grin, “You really are the biggest dick in the world.”

“Hardly, I wish I were that cruel!”

They went in, ate a nice diner, and went on to the next part of their night; a bar a few blocks away. After assuring Jimmy his car would be fine, they made their way on foot. Once inside, they spotted Jeordie sitting at the bar, and made way to a table that was empty and being wiped down.

Once seated, Michael looked at Stephen, “What are the odds Jeordie makes his way to our table, Pogo?”

“Are you kidding? He’ll be over here in about ten minutes… if we’re lucky.”

Michael smirked at the answer, and they ordered the first round of drinks. The waitress came back with the drinks a few minutes later, and Jeordie sat down as she was walking away; smirking and watching as she walked to another table, “That waitress wants me.”

Trista snorted a laugh, “I doubt that.” He looked at her, scowling, “We all know how you treat wait staff, Jeordie it’s no big secret.”

Jeordie took a swig of his beer, “Whatever, hooker.”

Trista just laughed, while Jimmy shook his head at Jeordie, “I don’t want to hear you call her that kind of stuff.”

Trista smiled, “It’s okay, just an old nick-name.” Jimmy gave her a look and she just took a pull of her bourbon on the rocks, “What? It is.”

Jeordie smirked, “Used to be her profession.” There was a loud ‘thump’ under the table, and Jeordie whimpered in pain, “OW! What the fuck, T?”

Stephen started laughing, he’d been the one to kick Jeordie; Trista just rolled her eyes, “It wasn't me, jackass.” She looked at Stephen, and cracked a smile, “Thanks for defending my honor, Stephen.”

Stephen took a swig of beer, “Don’t mention it, toots.” He raised his bottle to her, and she raised her glass in return, “I still say you should really reevaluate your relationship with Geordie.” He took a drink, but she set her glass down, leveling a look at him, “Hey, that’s bad etiquette, not drinking after a salute to our camaraderie.”

Trista shook her head, “Why do I even bother…”

Jeordie glared at Stephen, “Dude, you know I hate that nick-name; it’s such a dumb nick-name, it doesn't even make any sense.”

“It’s the perfect nick-name for you; combining your name and the fact you’re grody. It was, quite frankly, the best thing I've ever come up with.”

Trista laughed, “Pretty sure people still call you that in Fort Lauderhell; least, they were when I left.” Jeordie crossed his arms over his chest, and she smiled, “I mean it, you will never live that one down.”

Jeordie rolled his eyes, “Just like you’ll never live down the fact that you gave Jimmy a blow job the night you meet him…”

“Please, that is so weak, coming from a huge whore such as yourself Jeord.”

Jeordie stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed; Jimmy looked less than amused, “I’d really appreciate you not saying those types of things about my wife.”

Stephen laughed at the shocked look on Jeordie’s face, “Wife?!” He looked at Trista, “What the hell, T? I thought you were never getting married; what the fuck…”

Trista smiled, “Yeah,” She pointed to Jimmy, “He duped me into it.”

Jimmy laughed, “Whatever, you couldn't say ‘yes’ fast enough.”

Jeordie smirked, “Like the night you meet?” Stephen kicked him harder this time, “OW! Fuck Pogo, you dick… what was that for?”

Michael shook his head, “You never learn, do you Jeordie?”

“Dude, I've known Stephen’s a dick for longer than you, okay?” Everyone got a good laugh out of that one, except Jeordie, “Yeah, always laugh at the guy getting picked on.”

Stephen took a swig of beer, “That’s the plan; if you don’t like it, you could always leave.” Jeordie made a face at him, but Stephen ignored Jeordie and took another swig of beer; steering the conversation to more interesting topics, “So, Jimbo, what you been up to lately? I heard all about T’s endeavors, but got very little information on what you've been working on.”

Jimmy smiled at the nick-name; it being what Stephen been calling him since they’d meet in New Orleans in March of ‘96, “Sound tech, same thing I was doing before, only at a better equipped studio.” He took a gulp of his beer, “I don’t have to play for shitty cover bands anymore to make ends meet, so, there’s that.”

Stephen took a swig of beer, emptying the bottle, “God, you are an old married couple now…” he shook his head, “What happened to the fun loving rascals I left in New Orleans?”

Jimmy and Michael laughed, while Trista shook her head, “We've only been married a week; Jesus… you’d think we’d been married 30 years, the way you talk.”

Jeordie, who’d been looking at some girls a few tables over, turned around at that, “It’s only been a week?” Trista and Jimmy nodded, and Jeordie smirked at Jimmy, “What, you get her knocked up, or something Jim?”

Trista held up her glass of bourbon, “Would I be drinking if I were pregnant Jeordie? Seriously, don’t put on the act so goddamn thick…”

“I was just asking; don’t have to be a bitch about it.” She pointed a finger at him, and he took the gesture as a threat of violence; which was the smart thing to do, as Trista didn't take kindly to being called a bitch. He muttered a quick, “Sorry,” and turned back around to check out some more girls that had just come in.

Michael shook his head again, “Never learns…”

Jeordie stood up, “Screw you dicks, I’m going to talk to those hot girls over there.” He flipped the collar of his shirt up, making everyone laugh, and started walking to a table with three girls at it.

Michael nudged Stephen in the arm, “How long do you figure it’ll take them to turn him down?”

Stephen looked over, the black-haired girl catching him looking, and gave a pretty smile, until Jeordie sat down next to her, and put his arm around the back of her chair. Stephen smirked, “Not long at all.”

Trista looked over at the table quickly, then back at Stephen, “Ah, I see…”

Stephen turned to glare at Trista, and found her smirking. He sighed, “Shut it.”

Trista laughed and drained her glass, “What? We all know your type and she’s sitting at that table, right next to Geordie… though, I have to admit, she doesn't look as excited as he does.”

Jimmy laughed and got up, “I've got the next round; same as before?”

They all nodded and muttered thanks to his generosity as Jimmy walked to the bar. Trista turned to Stephen, still wearing that smirk, “You should go over there ya know, before Jeordie scores.”

Stephen huffed and pulled a cigarette out of his pack, lighting it, “Please T, if you’re going to tell me a joke, make it funny at least.” Michael chuckled while Trista rolled her eyes, and Jimmy sat back down, “Where’s my beer?”

“It’ll be here in about 15 minutes.”

Stephen took a drag off the cigarette, “Quarter of an hour for a beer? I thought this was America…”

Everyone laughed and Jeordie flopped back down in his chair, a scowl on his face, “She wants to talk to you, dick.” He gestured toward the table he’d just sulked back from.

Michael eyed him, “Which one? You've called us all ‘dick’ at some point tonight.”

Jeordie was glaring at Stephen, “He knows I’m talking to him.” Stephen smirked at the glare and stubbed out the butt of the cigarette, making Jeordie narrow his eyes at him, “You’re a real piece of work, Steve.”

Stephen leaned over the table toward Jeordie, “I thought we were clear on you not calling me ‘Steve’.” Jeordie's glare only got more intense, so Stephen backed off and stood up, “I guess if she asked to talk to me, I shouldn't keep her waiting; that’d be pretty rude of me.” Stephen flipped up his collar, mocking Jeordie and getting laughter from everyone else at the table, “You can have my beer when it gets here, Geordie.”

Stephen heard Jeordie mutter something under his breath, but didn't care enough to ask him to repeat himself, and started walking the couple tables over; putting the collar back down, so he wouldn't look as ridiculous as Jeordie. Once Stephen had made it to the table, the other two girls got up, excusing themselves while giggling and winking at their friend. She gave Stephen a grin, her dark eyes glinting, “Hi.”

Stephen grinned back, “Hey,” He held my hand out to her; “I’m Stephen.”

She took his hand, shook it lightly, and shared her name, “Kim.”

Stephen noticed her glass was empty, and since he needed a drink of his own, offered before sitting down, “Could I buy you a drink?”

Kim smiled, “Yeah, thanks; tequila, with an orange slice.”

“Be right back.” Stephen made his way to the bar, throwing a discreet thumb’s up to Jeordie; who scowled, and flipped Stephen off before turning back in his chair. Stephen ordered the drinks, and made his way back to the table and Kim.

Kim smiled as Stephen sat in one of the chairs across from her, looking a little grateful for being left with personal space after being harassed by Jeordie, “So, your friend’s… interesting.”

“He’s not so much a friend as he is a band mate.”

She grinned, “He didn't seem too happy when I told him I’d rather talk to you, since you’re much sexier.”

Stephen felt a cocky smirk on his face at that, “Forward, I like that.”

Kim's grin grew as she shrugged one shoulder, about to say something when the drinks were set in front of them; both thanked the waitress, and she picked up her glass, “Cheers.”

Stephen picked up his beer, “Cheers.”

They both drank, and Kim smiled after taking a nibble of her orange slice, “You said you’re in a band?”

“Yeah, we just started writing an album this week.”

Kim took another nibble of the orange, smirking when she saw Stephen watching her intently, and asked in a flirtatious voice, “You like oranges and tequila?”

She waggled her eyebrows, smiling sexily; Stephen answered her smoothly, “I think I might.”

He took a swig of beer as she took a sip of her tequila, “You've never had oranges and tequila?”

Stephen shook his head, smirking at the slight blush that had spread across Kim's cheeks, “No, ma’am, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Kim laughed, “I get weird looks any time I order it here in L.A.; but it’s the drink to have in San Diego.”

“Your home town?”

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I’m here for school; start my last semester next week.”

Stephen took a swallow of beer, “What are you studying?”

Kim smiled, shaking her head and making a dismissive gesture with her hand, “It’s horribly boring.”

Stephen smirked, “Let me be the judge of that.”

Kim grinned and took another sip of her drink, “Computer engineering.”

Stephen chuckled, “It’s not the boredom I’d worry about in that field; it is doing your job too well that can put a halt to success.” Kim gave him an inquisitive look, her eyebrows knitting together slightly, “I worked as an industrial engineer for a few years; no one likes you if you want to implement any thing that makes an ounce of sense.” He took a swig of beer, “That’s what solidified my decision to do music full time.”

Kim looked pleasantly surprised, with her wide grin, “What did you specialize in?”

“Building and programming robotics; I really liked the work, it was fun and challenging, but I didn't like being told I was too efficient.”

She laughed, “I wanted to get into the robotics program at UCLA, but I missed the curve by one point.”

Stephen gave her a smirk, “We share a passion for robots and mechanics.” Kim grinned and looked at him from under her eyelashes; blushing once again, giving a pretty flush of color to her tan cheeks. “If there’s one thing I like more than pretty, blushing girls; its smart women, who know how to handle tools.”

She threw her head back in laughter, her eyes glittering with humor, “Is that so?”

Stephen nodded slowly, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kim narrowed her eyes some, looking like she was trying to figure something out, “Where are you from? No guy from So Cal has ever called me ‘ma’am’.”

Stephen laughed and finished off his beer, “They lack manners.” Kim got a sexy, inquisitive smirk on her face, “Fort Lauderdale, Fl.”

“What’s it like there?”

“Well, I’ll say this: we all affectionately call it Fort Lauderhell.” Kim's smirk cracked into a smile as she laughed lightly, “But, it is home; my family lives there.”

She nodded, and opened her mouth to say something, when someone fell into the back of Stephen's chair, spilling a rum and coke all over him, “Oh!”

He stood up, and saw it was one drunk-ass chick, still tottering in her heels; she slurred an apology to me and grabbed a bag from under the table. Stephen realized that she was here with Kim, but that didn't help to ebb the annoyance he felt at being covered in sticky soda; he took a deep breath, “Excuse me, Kim, I’ll be back in a few minutes; I’m going to try to clean myself up some.”

Kim looked at him, and nodded apologetically, “Yeah, of course.”

Stephen turned to walk toward the bathroom, but Kim's friend jumped up out of the chair she’d fallen into, “You’re the jerk-off that spilled my drink!”

Stephen turned back around and gawked at her, “The fuck you talking about?”

She turned red in the face, but Kim intervened before she could say anything, “Kristy, you dumb whore; you fell into his back and dumped your drink all over him.”

Kim gave Stephen a weak smile and he sighed again, “Yeah, I’ll be back.” He turned toward the bathrooms again, shaking his head and muttering, “Fuck my luck…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Strong language, drug use, and adult themes. I own no part of Marilyn Manson; written for entertainment, as entertainment.

Stephen must have spent about 20 minutes cleaning himself up as well as he could, and still ended up with one of his favorite shirts ruined from the coke stain all over one shoulder, and half way down the front; but, he wasn't sticky anymore, and that was good enough. He walked back out into the bar, looked at the table he'd been expecting to return to, and found it occupied by a different group; he couldn't help muttering, “You fucking serious?” It was easy then for him to decide to go back to the table with his friends; at least he'd be able to cover the stain with the jacket he'd brought with him… He sat back in the chair he'd been and took the jacket off the back, slipping it on; Michael was smirking at him, and out of annoyance, Stephen asked, “What?”

Michael's smirk vanished, “Nothing.”

He took a slow drink of his beer, peering at Stephen from the corner of one eye, as Stephen looked around the table; Jimmy and Trista were looking at Jeordie, who had a smug-ass look on his face. It made Stephen want to punch him, “You have two seconds to wipe that look off your face Jeordie, before I knock it off.”

Of course Jeordie, being without any sense, leaned back into his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest, only making himself look more smug. Trista gave an exasperated sigh, “Jeordie, just give it to him.”

Stephen looked at her, his brow knitting, “Give me what?”

Jeordie sneered at Stephen, “My cock!”

“Oh, that’s it mother fucker! I’m kicking your ass!”

Stephen stood up, about to jump across the table at Jeordie; Jimmy jumped up as quick, and put his hands up, “Whoa, let’s not do this.” He looked at Jeordie, “Man, grow up and give Pogo the napkin.”

“The fuck I want a napkin for?” Jimmy sat back down, and looked pointedly at one of Jeordie’s clenched fists, then back at Stephen. He sat back down slowly, and looked at Jeordie, “What’s on the napkin? You fuck with me, you’ll regret it.”

Jeordie threw a wadded up napkin in Stephen's face and spat, “From your whore.”

Stephen shot Jeordie a deadly glare before smoothing out the napkin, still not sure of what he would find, or what Jeordie had meant by ‘whore’; when Stephen looked down, he realized it had a phone number on it, along with the name ‘Kim’. He looked up, coming down off the rage had left his brain slightly foggy, “Okay, I’m confused…”

Trista smiled and patted Stephen's shoulder, “She said she had to leave, something about her roommate being black-out drunk.” She looked at the stain on the collar of his shirt, the only part that wasn't covered by the jacket, “Looks like you meet her roommate too though, huh?”

Stephen looked back at the napkin, and nodded, “Yeah, we had a run in.”

Trista smirked at his joke, “Cheer up, Bitter Bier Face! You have a hottie's number,” She looked at the stain again, grinning drunkenly, “And, a memento from her roommate!”

Stephen looked at Jimmy, “You let her get drunk without me?”

Jimmy laughed, “You know how well she listens.”

“Hmm,” Stephen folded up the napkin, and put it in his pocket; then gestured to a waitress, so he could order a drink, “I think I need to catch up to you, T.”

She smiled, “Buy me another, Stephen; I need to pee.”

She stood up and walked toward the bathrooms while Jimmy shook his head, laughing, “She is gonna be plastered if she has one more.”

Stephen shrugged, “I have to respect the lady’s wish.” Jimmy smirked at that and the waitress got to our table, “Four whiskeys.”

“Coming right up.”

She walked to the bar, and Jeordie looked at Stephen, “Is this you extending the peace-pipe to me for stealing that chick from under my nose?”

“No, why would I be the one apologizing? One each for Trista, Jimmy, Mike and myself. I told you at the start of the evening, you’re not welcome on this adventure; but you refuse to realize that you are not wanted.” Stephen pulled a smoke out of his pack and lit it, the nicotine helping to calm him down some more, “And, how could something you've never possessed be stolen from you, Jeordie?”

Jeordie scowled, and turned his head to the side; Michael laughed, “He’s upset that girl said you’re his ‘cute friend’.”

Stephen took a drag off his smoke, grinning cockily, “Well, I am the better looking of the two; not to mention, I’m a more intelligent and courteous lover.”

Michael and Jimmy laughed as Trista sat back down, “What’s so funny?”

Jeordie, who still had a scowl on his face, turned to face Trista, “Stephen’s being a dick; what else is new?”

She laughed as shot glasses were set down on the table, “You’re just mad that girl said Stephen is cute; and left her number for him, and not you.”

Trista and Stephen clinked their shots together and downed them, Stephen laughed at the look on her face; she’d never been able to handle shots. Jimmy slid his across the table to Stephen, “I have to drive us back some time tonight.”

Stephen shrugged and downed it, the second one burning a little, making him grimace slightly, “The night’s still young though, Jimbo!”

Jimmy laughed, “Yeah, and I've been up since 4:30 this morning.”

Stephen made a dismissive hand gesture towards Jimmy as he lit another cigarette; Michael downed his shot of whiskey, and grimaced, “Give me a stick, Pogo.”

Stephen handed Michael his pack and lighter, and noticed Jeordie scowling again, “What, you want one too?”

“No, I want that chick’s phone number back.”

Stephen took a drag off his smoke, patting the pocket he had the napkin in, “I believe she wanted me to have it.” Jeordie narrowed his eyes at Stephen, “Don’t fucking push me, Jeordie; I already want to kick your ass.”

“Man, you can want to kick my ass all day long; that phone number should be mine.”

Trista laughed, “Jeordie, she wanted Stephen to have it.” She smiled lopsidedly at Stephen, “And, who could blame her! He’s so cute.”

Stephen tapped his smoke, to knock the ash off the cherry, laughing, “I know someone who’s drunk…”

She slurred her argument slightly, “Not me.”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling, “You’re gonna regret it in the morning, babe.”

Jeordie was still glaring at Stephen, “Why’d you go over there?”

Stephen stubbed out the butt of his smoke, “I was invited; why’d you?”

“I wanted to get lucky!”

Michael laughed as he stubbed out his smoke too, “Jeordie, we all saw the look on those girls’ faces when you sat down at their table; you were not getting lucky with any of them.”

Jeordie crossed his arms, his scowl deepening, “I could have.”

Trista, who was now leaning on Jimmy, regardless of the fact they were seated, laughed, “Oh yeah, Jeord; what was your line, huh? Was it the one you gave me, all those years ago, when we first met?”

Jeordie blushed some, clearly embarrassed at the memory, “No.”

She smiled fondly, “Oh, that’s right; that one never worked!”

Stephen and Michael threw their heads back in laughter, and Jimmy just smirked, putting his arm around Trista’s shoulder. After Stephen had stopped laughing so hard, he said, “Ba-zing! I’d almost forgotten about that night.”

Trista shook her head, “Not me; that night scarred me for life.”

Jeordie scowled at her, “It wasn't that bad…”

Trista gave Jeordie a skeptical look, “You weren't the one who got groped, you did the groping.” She laughed, “I still can’t believe that you took that punch to the nose so well…”

Stephen grinned like a madman, and winked at Trista, “Yeah, the guy you were there with did a number on him, huh toots?”

Jeordie turned his glare toward Stephen, “Asshole… I still have to get you back for that.”

Jimmy laughed, and looked at Stephen, “You gave his nose that shape?”

“I wish! That happened when he got thrown face-first into a Jeep, for fucking a bouncer’s girlfriend. That is another funny story though.”

Trista smiled and sang, “Geordie Jeordie, always horny…”

With a chuckle, Stephen finished, “He’ll let you suck him off, if you’re under forty.”

The two laughed at the inside joke, while Jimmy shook his head and Michael cracked a smile; Jeordie stood up, “Enough of this shit, I’m gone.”

“Oh….” Stephen looked at Trista, who was grinning drunkenly, “I think you hurt his feelings, T.”

She looked shocked, and put her hand to her chest, “Me? No, never….”

Jimmy tightened his arm around her shoulder, smiling some, “I think it’s about time we start thinking about getting you home and in bed.”

She swatted his thigh, pouting, “No, I’m having too much fun.”

She yawned, and leaned more heavily into Jimmy’s side; he rubbed her shoulder some, rousing her, “Yeah, I don’t need you passing out on me.”

Trista looked to Stephen, her green eyes droopy and tired behind her glasses; he agreed with Jimmy, “Yeah, and I don’t feel like dragging your lifeless body to the car tonight, T; last time I did that, you puked on me.”

She laughed, “That was ages ago.”

“Exactly why I haven’t done it since; that, and I never got the puke smell out of my good jacket…” She pouted and closed her eyes; Jimmy stood up, pulling her to stand as well while Stephen laughed, “You called it Jimbo.”

Jimmy smiled while Michael and Stephen stood up, “I know I’m pretty tired myself, and I didn't drink near as much as she did.”

Stephen pulled his wallet out and threw some cash on the table, to take care of the rest of our tab, and to leave a tip for the waitress, “That girl has never been able to handle her liquor.” He shook his head, “You’d think she’d learned by now…”

Jimmy tried to get her walking, but wasn't making much progress; he looked to Stephen, “You’re the expert on this.”

Michael laughed, nudging Stephen with his elbow, “Pretty sure Jimmy’s saying this is entirely your fault, Pogo.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” Stephen let Jimmy put Trista’s weight on his, and he put an arm around her to support her, “T, it’s time to go.”

She looked up at Stephen, and murmured, “M’kay, Bier.”

She weakly put her arm around his waist, and they started walking; Jimmy and Michael behind them. Stephen patted her shoulder, “Good girl.” She poked him in the side and leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and wobbling on her high-heeled boots; if she hadn't been leaning so heavily for support, she’d been flat on her face. Stephen laughed, “Don’t know if that shot was such a good idea or not, toots.”

Trista opened her eyes a crack as they walked out of the bar and into the bright street, groaning at the street lamps over head, “You bought it for me.”

Stephen chuckled, and tightened his grip on her when she shivered from the chill of the air, “Only because you asked.” She gave him a tired and lopsided smile, closing her eyes again and making him chuckle some more, “We’ll get you to your car, and you can sleep.”

Trista made a small sound of approval and Jimmy laughed, “Thanks Pogo, now I’m gonna have to carry her upstairs to our apartment.”

Stephen looked over his shoulder at Jimmy, blowing the bit of Trista’s hair that got in his face, “You know, we do have a sofa bed.”

Trista muttered, “Those damn things are so uncomfortable…”

Stephen laughed, “You won’t know the difference, T; you’re more than half asleep now, as it is.” He looked back at Jimmy again, “What do you say? I’ll carry her inside, while you and Mike get the damn thing pulled out and ready.” Jimmy nodded, and Stephen patted Trista’s arm, “Hear that, T? We’re having a sleep over!” She just looked up at him through her curtain of hair, while Michael and Jimmy laughed again; Stephen smirked, “C'mon, it’ll be like all those times in Fort Lauderhell, when you’d rather stay at my place, instead of going home and facing your parents.”

She smiled at that, “Yeah, well; that’s what you got for always getting me drunk then, too.”

They shared a laugh and Trista closed her eyes again, her feet practically dragging on the ground at that point; luckily they were within seeing distance of where the car was parked. Stephen squeezed her shoulder, “Almost there.”

She said something, but it wasn't loud enough for any of them to hear. Jimmy and Michael started talking guitars, while Trista and Stephen walked in silence. When they got to the car, it was found out that Trista was out on her feet. Jimmy shook his head while unlocking the car, “Don’t know how I would have gotten her back to the car without you, Pogo.”

Jimmy walked back around the car, to help get her in, and Stephen said, “Are you kidding? What’s a night out, without someone needing dragged out of the bar, huh?”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling while he opened the door and Stephen sat Trista in the seat. She opened her eyes some, “What the hell?”

Stephen laughed, “You made it back to the car, all by yourself, T!”

She looked up at him and muttered, “Yeah, whatever,” and swung her own legs into the car and sat back, while Jimmy closed the door for her, laughing.

Stephen shook his head, smiling, “Yep, there’s the Trista I remember!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1-3 have been revised slightly; and even though it's been over three years since I've updated this fic, I do have chapter 4 in the works, now that I'm finished with Happy Birthday Pogo! Be on the look out for more to this story in the next couple of weeks.   
> Thanks to anyone who has read and commented or left kudos on my works! It really helps to keep me at a steady pace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language, drug and alcohol use, sexual and adult themes. I own no part of Marilyn Manson, or any members, past or present. I make no money from writing anything, like, ever.
> 
> I know it's been forever since I've updated this fic, but I'm back in it, and hope to keep it up!

Trista and Jimmy left shortly after everyone woke up, but not before Stephen had the chance to make fun of Trista, getting a scowl out of her and a smirk out of Jimmy. About twenty minutes after the couple had left, the doorbell rang. Stephen sighed when Michael didn’t even bother to look up from the book he was reading, and stood up to answer the door; he found Brian standing there, with sunglasses covering half his face, no doubt to protect his eyes after having a rough night. Brian gave Stephen a broad grin, “Good, you’re up.”

Stephen shrugged, giving Brian a knowing smile, “What are you doing up at 9 am on a Sunday, huh? Going to Sunday School?”

Brian laughed and Stephen let him in the door, closing it behind him as Brian answered the hypothetical question, “Up? You know better than to think I slept any last night.” Brian kept his eyewear on, regardless of being out of the early morning sun, and whispered to Stephen in a conspiratorial manner, “Do you have any toilet paper?”

Stephen looked at him, “You have to take a shit? Is that the only reason for your visit; your need for a clean john and dislike of ruining socks?”

Brian took off his sunglasses and slapped Stephen on the shoulder, “You know what it’s like.” Brian started heading toward the bathroom, leaving Stephen to chuckle behind him; he gave Michael a quick greeting on his way through the living room, “Mike.”

Michael glanced at Brian for a split second, and shook his head while flipping the page of his book; he looked to Stephen after the bathroom door closed, then turned back to his reading, “What does he want?”

Stephen shrugged as he sat back in his spot, turning the volume up on the television a few notches so he could hear the narration of the program he was watching, “As far as I can tell, he wanted a private bathroom to do drugs in; which doesn’t make much sense, seeing as he’s been doing them in public all night long.”

Michael smirked as he turned another page and marked his spot with a make-shift bookmark, “It could be his irritable bowel acting up again.” Stephen cringed, and Michael’s smirk grew into an amused grin, “I told him that he needed more fiber.”

Stephen put up a hand to stop Michael from sharing any more of that conversation, “I’ve heard all I need to about Brian’s bodily functions, thanks.”

Michael stood and made his way to the kitchen, shaking his head, “Still so very Catholic, aren’t you Pogo?”

Stephen shrugged, “Kinda hard to wipe out years of brain washing, 3 of which included being an altar boy.” He could hear Michael laugh as he poured a cup of coffee, “You should sympathize with me, Mike, your mother is Catholic.”

Michael came back in the living room, with a mug of coffee, “I was never an altar boy.”

Brain walked back into the living room, sat next to Stephen and cringed when he saw that Stephen was watching a documentary on WWII, “Do you ever get tired of watching this shit, Pogo? How many of these things are there?”

Stephen just looked at Brian for a second, before turning back to the television, “The history will either be remembered, or we are bound to repeat it. It’s still a very fresh part of history, and it doesn’t hurt the film makers any that it was the first war that was widely documented with video.” Stephen picked up his mug and took a gulp of coffee, smirking when he caught Brian wrinkle his nose; he couldn’t help fucking with his best friend, “Care for a cup? We have plenty.”

Brian shook his head, “No, I can’t stomach that vile shit.” Brain turned to face Stephen, a small smirk taking over the look of disgust, “I ran into Jeordie at about 3 this morning; he seemed pretty pissed at you for some reason.”

Michael rolled his eyes while Stephen laughed, “I have a pretty good idea of what about.”

Brian just cocked his shaved brow, waiting for Stephen to elaborate; but his mug was empty, and he needed more caffeine since he didn’t have cocaine coursing through his veins like Brian did. Stephen stood and made his way to the kitchen, Brian following him, wanting to hear the other side of the story he’d gotten out of a drunken Jeordie after giving him a few bumps of coke in a dark booth of a club. He waited the minute it took Stephen to make coffee, occupying himself by grabbing a beer out of the fridge, “He was really drunk, I had a hard time understanding him through the drool and slobber of the whore he had with him.”

Stephen shook his head, “He’s such a little snot.” Brian cocked his brow again while taking a sip of the beer in his hand, and Stephen gave a small sigh, “I went out, with Trista and Jimmy; you remember Jimmy, right?” Brian gave him a blank look, so Stephen dismissed it with a flick of his wrist, “Anyways, I told Jeordie that he needed to find his own adventure; that meant him following us around, so when we got to the bar, we gave up on ditching him, and dealt with him the best way we know how: making fun of him relentlessly.” Brian smirked at that, but was still waiting for Stephen to get to the good part, so Stephen took his time taking a sip of the coffee that was still a few degrees too warm, “He saw some chicks a few tables over, and took a chance, failing miserably at whatever it is Jeordie does with women.” Stephen got a slightly cocky grin on his face, remembering the dejected look on Jeordie’s face on his walk of shame back to the group’s table, “Apparently, one of the girls told him she’d rather talk to me, and made him the messenger.”

Brian looked disappointed, “That’s very anti-climactic Pogo; I know you’re a better storyteller than that.” Stephen shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee while Brian chugged his beer, “He said something about a phone number, or I think he did; that whore was trying to keep his mind off of the pain you caused him.”

Stephen laughed at that, “Please, he does it to himself; I’m merely entertained by it all.”

Brian gave Stephen his ‘I’m waiting’ glare, which prompted Stephen to take a few slow gulps of his coffee; just because he knew how impatient Brian could be, and he couldn’t resist the urge to push the buttons of his friends. After he’d satisfied his thirst for Brian’s dark glare, he smiled hugely at the singer, who in turned scowled and rolled his eyes, “Most of the time you won’t shut the fuck up Pogo; get on with it.”

Stephen shrugged, still grinning cockily, “I really don’t know what else to tell you Warner; while I was in the bathroom, cleaning a rum and coke off of myself, she left her number for me at the table with Jeordie. I got back to our table, and he handed the napkin with the phone number on it over; I don’t really know what he could be upset about.”

Brian emptied his bottle and tossed it in the trash, “You’re right, he’s a snot; I wasted my drugs on that story? I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Stephen laughed, “You know better than to give Jeordie drugs. Don’t feed the animals, ya know?”

Brian cracked a smile, “What’s the point of having it if you can’t share it with the people close to you? You know, like V.D. and other cool shit?”

Stephen shook his head, “If you say so. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Mike and I have a couple rough songs done, if you want to hear what we’ve been doing the past week.”

Brian shook his head, “No, that was really all; I’m going home now, to take a Vicodin so that I can go to sleep before the sun goes back down. I’ll see you guys Tuesday, right?”

“What’s going on Tuesday?”

Brian leveled a glare at Stephen before putting his sunglasses back on and headed for the door, “Mike, remind the pot head what we’re doing Tuesday. See you fuckers then.”

Brian walked out of the door, and Michael turned to Stephen with a smirk on his face, “Did you seriously forget we head into the studio for the first time Tuesday, or were you just being you and trying to piss him off?”

Stephen sat back on the couch and picked up a joint he’d rolled earlier that morning, “That’s this week? Shit. Yeah, I did forget.”

Michael shook his head, “You didn’t forget, you asshole; you didn’t shut up about it on the way home from the bar last night.”

Stephen lit the joint and took a big hit from it, “I know, and you know that I can’t help it if I love watching Brian boss you around.” Michael picked up the notebook on the table and threw it at Stephen, who dodged it and laughed, “HA! Check out them super cool ninja skills, pussy!”

Michael rolled his eyes, but smiled when Stephen passed the joint after taking another hit, “You fucker, you’re lucky I put up with your ranting and raving ass; you’d be stuck in a shitty apartment if I didn’t share the rent and utilities with your cheap ass.”

 

They smoked the joint, and then got up to work for a couple hours; interrupted by a phone call from Laurie, Michael’s girlfriend in Chicago. While Michael was on the phone, Stephen took the opportunity to add Kim’s phone number to his little black book, and to cross out old and unwanted numbers while having a sandwich. After Stephen finished his lunch, he waited for Michael to get off the phone so that he could call his family; he hoped to be able to see them in the next few months, but knew that wouldn’t be likely with recording starting in the next week.

Michael hung up the phone, after a gushy series of goodbyes that made Stephen want to vomit, and walked into the kitchen to make his own lunch, “Phone is all yours, Pogo.”

Stephen teased him, “Yeah, I need to disinfect it after you slobbered all over it; how many times do I have to tell you, Mike, that frenching over the phone is not only gross, but it doesn’t do any fucking good?”

Michael just glanced at Stephen over his shoulder for a second, then went back to making another pot of coffee, “You’re just jealous that you have no one to french over the phone.”

Stephen picked up the phone and wiped it with a disinfecting wipe, “Even if I did, I wouldn’t lick the phone; I’d just jerk off while having phone sex like a normal fucking person, and save the tongue action for an appropriate time. Now, if you’ll excuse me; I’m going to call my mother, and forget all about the sappy bullshit I heard you say, you love sick bastard.” Stephen took the sanitized phone to his room and dialed in the number automatically; when he heard the line connect he said, “Hey Ma-“

“Um… I think you may have the wrong number… Who is this?”

“Uh, it’s Stephen; who is this?”

There was a little laughter, “It’s Kim; you know only creeps call the day after meeting in a seedy bar. It’s made even more awkward when the creep calls you ‘Ma’.”

She laughed again, while Stephen fumbled for the right thing to say, “Oh god… This is awkward… I was going to call my parents, really; I’m not typically this huge of a creep until after the second date.”

Kim laughed more over that, “Sure you were, creepy; and I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, but that’ll be kind of hard, since you creeped out before even the first.” She laughed again, to Stephen’s relief, but surprised him when she asked, “What have you got going on later this week?”

“My band is going into the studio for the first time on Tuesday, so that we can regroup and make notes about what’s been done, and what needs work.”

“Are you free anytime on Tuesday? I don’t have any classes that afternoon.”

Stephen smirked, “I think I could sneak away around two-ish for a coffee.”

“Cool, I’m free for a creeptastic coffee then.”

Stephen ran his hand through his hair, “I’m not gonna live this one down, am I?”

She laughed, “We’ll see if you can out-creep yourself after the second date; if you hold to your word, I may forgive this indiscretion. Where do you want to meet for coffee?”

They made plans to meet at a small café at two on Tuesday and ended the conversation on a light and humorous note, with Kim getting in a few more jabs at him for his faux pas and Stephen laughing them off.  He made sure to dial his parents’ number correctly after his accidental call with Kim had ended.

After he’d gotten off the phone with his family, he headed back out to the kitchen where Michael was cleaning up some, “I made a complete fool out of myself, Mike.”

Michael looked over his shoulder, “What else is new?” That’s when he realized that Stephen looked slightly embarrassed, “What did you do?”

“I called that girl from last night, by mistake.”

Michael turned around, “How do you even manage that?” Stephen just shrugged, “That must have been awkward…”

“For me, yeah; she just laughed about it and made fun of my ass.” Stephen got a cocky grin on his face, “We’re meeting for coffee Tuesday afternoon.”

Michael looked at Stephen with an impressed look, “Only you could creep out on a complete stranger and turn it into a date.” He shook his head, “I’m in awe at how you make ungainly gestures turn into endearing feats with members of the fairer sex.”

Stephen smirked, “It’s the Devil may care attitude.”

Michael laughed, “It must be. You better not be late to our meeting with the band that evening; if I have to cover for your ass, I’m making it sound as gay as possible.”

Stephen shrugged, “You’d only have to tell the truth; the gayest thing a guy can do is take a girl to coffee, after putting a dick in his mouth anyways. Your voice will make it sound super gay, too.”

Michael rolled his eyes, smiling some, “Not everyone can have the deep, velvet tones you do, Pogo. Are we going to go back to work some this afternoon, or what?”

“Yeah, we might as well finish up that tune we started on before we broke for lunch.”

The two walked to the small third bedroom of the house they shared, the one that held their instruments and other hardware. Stephen started his computer back up as Michael set up his effects petals and guitar, “What do you think everyone else will think about what we’ve been working on the past week and a half?”

Stephen shrugged, “Who knows? Either they’ll like it or they won’t; I don’t care either way, we’ve been having too much fun busting this shit out.”

Michael smiled some at that, “I’m glad you feel that way too. If they don’t like it, I say we start a side group with what we’ve been doing. This is some of the coolest stuff I’ve ever worked on, it’d be a shame to waste it.”

“That’s like a mistress expecting a married man to run away with her, Mike. Shit… You’re right though, this is some really cool shit. Fuck it, let’s do it! We can even kidnap Kenny to do drums for us.”

Michael laughed, “I don’t think we’d have to kidnap Kenny, he likes what we’ve been working on.”

“This only works if we kidnap Ken, damn it! I doubt he’d come willingly, since we wouldn’t be bringing in any money.”

Michael made a face, “You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that aspect…”

Stephen tapped his temple with his index finger as he stood behind his synthesizer and keyboards, “Yeah, see… You’re the pretty face, and I’m the brains of this operation; Kenny will have to be the brawn, it’s the only position left for him.”

Michael shook his head, “I don’t know, I don’t think Ken would like being the brawn of this outfit.”

“That’s why we kidnap him, Mike! We need to go to the hardware store, for a canvas bag and some duct tape… And possibly a sex shop, for a ball gag so that he can’t call for help.”

Michael laughed, “How do we get Kenny to agree to putting the ball gag into his mouth, huh?”

“Shit, you’re right… This plan is falling to shit, Mike! Abort mission!” They shared a laugh at that, “I guess the only thing we can do is hope that Brian likes what he hears; if he doesn’t, we’ll just have to write some more. Either way, we’re not in bad shape; we’ve got some rough songs to show for our work, and we’ve worked with Kenny some on beats. I’m guessing we’re well ahead of Jeordie, he probably hasn’t really written anything yet.”

Michael picked up his guitar and put the strap around his shoulder, “How is that even possible?”

“Oh, you’ll see just how fucking slow Jeordie is about writing and working in a studio soon enough… I hope this album is nothing like the last; Christ, that was a fucking mess, and we won’t have Trent here full time to push us this time like we did then.”

Michael shrugged, “If it is, we’ll just have more time to work on our side project.”

Stephen laughed, “That’s the spirit! C’mon, let’s get on with this, if we finish this up, that’s six songs done on our part… That’s a pretty good demo for a week and a few days.”


End file.
